I dTromluithe
by Briar Elwood
Summary: Michael takes Fiona out dancing in an attempt to get them both to relax. However, when Fiona goes to the bathroom and doesn't come back, it's obvious relaxation isn't going to happen anytime soon for either of them. Mike/Fi WILL NOT BE FINISHED
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Welcome all to **I dTromluithe**! Updates for this will be on a regular schedule yet to be determined. **The Devil Herself** will continue to be updated daily._

Fiona jumped ever so slightly when she felt strong arms wrap around her waist and a face nuzzle into her neck. She'd heard Michael walk through her door, but wasn't quite expecting him to snuggle up to her like this... Michael chuckled quietly at her reaction, his breath tickling her. Fiona squirmed gently against the sensation, forcing a giggle down into a wide grin.

"You're in a good mood," she commented softly as she turned her head towards his.

"Mm," Michael replied. Fiona's grin widened as she felt the vibrations of his voice. This was nice. Strange and a bit out of character for Michael, but she wasn't about to complain. She was quite happy to just stand here with his arms around her for the rest of her life. Fiona closed her eyes in contentment. She could easily live with this.

However, it seemed Michael had other ideas. He nipped her neck gently before twirling her around so he could look deep into her eyes. Fiona was startled by the sudden movement and found herself trapped in his gaze. Goodness, she hated that: he could so easily make her forget her surroundings simply by looking at her. Those eyes... So strong, so caring, so etched with sadness from everything he'd ever seen and endured... It broke Fiona's heart every time.

"What do you say we go out tonight?" he asked, breaking Fiona out of her reverie. She smiled cautiously at him.

"Like, a date?" she asked. This really _was _uncharacteristic of him...

Michael shrugged. "Yeah. Movie, dinner, dancing. Whatever."

Fiona raised an eyebrow. "Dancing?" she repeated. Michael shrugged again and Fiona picked up a slight note of embarrassment.

"We went dancing once before in Dublin," he pointed out. "Remember? I was surprised to find you could waltz so well."

Fiona was grinning again. "I remember. And I seem to also remember we ended up at a dirty dance club and didn't even make it back home that night before you ripped off all my clothes. Quite literally."

Michael's ears were turning pink. If Fiona wasn't careful, her grin was going to split her face open. This was too cute.

"Dancing sounds like fun," she said, patting his arm. Michael's blush traveled to his cheeks and he reached into his back pants pocket, pulling something out and handing it to Fiona. She took it with a frown.

"This time we're staying at the ballroom," Michael told her firmly.

In her hand, Fiona held two tickets to "A Night of Magic." Despite the Disney-like name and font it was printed in, the rest of the ticket declared more class than Disney.

"Of course, everyone else there will be at least twenty-five years older than us, but..."

Fiona looked up, her expression of wonder making Michael trail off as if he were afraid she was about to hit him.

"What would you have done if I'd said movie or dinner?" she asked in awe. Michael shrugged.

"Taken you to a movie or dinner, then taken you dancing. Though dinner is included."

Fiona stared down to the tickets in her hand again. "Why?" she asked. Michael frowned, confused.

"Because... They don't want people to be dancing on an empty stomach? I don't know, it just is, Fi."

Fiona shook her head, looking back up. "That's not what I meant. I meant why are you doing this?"

Michael smiled warmly. "Why am I taking you dancing? I figure we need a break. Something to help us relax."

Fiona continued staring at him blankly. "Have aliens replaced you?" she asked weakly. Michael chuckled, kissing her forehead.

"It's me, Fi. No need to worry."

"You realize aliens would say that if they'd replaced you?" Fiona pointed out.

"Then you're just going to have to trust me, aren't you?" Michael said, amused. "Would you rather me give these tickets to Sam and Ma?" He reached out to take the tickets from Fiona's hand, who snatched them away from his grasp. Michael grinned. "Get changed. I'll be out in the Charger."

Fiona's eyes swept Michael from head to toe. "What about you? You're not going in jeans and a t-shirt, are you?"

Michael shook his head. "I've got my clothes out in the car." He pushed her towards her room gently. "Now, go. Get ready."

Fiona's previous grin returned suddenly and she hopped up to give Michael a chaste peck on the cheek before skipping off to change. This, she decided, was going to be a night neither of them would ever forget.

_A/N: I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Still no regular schedule for updating set yet. Sorry._

As of yet, neither Michael nor Fiona were disappointed. Dinner had been fantastic and quite romantic and the dancing was proving to be more fun than either of them had expected. While Michael's prediction about the ages of everyone surrounding them proved to be correct, both were too wrapped into each other to care. After a particularly vigorous tango, Michael led Fiona off the dance floor so they could both catch their breath. He slipped off to grab them some champagne, grinning like a mad man when he returned to her side.

He couldn't take his eyes off her as she took the champagne graciously and turned to watch the other dancers. The dress she had picked out was simple but beautiful: black and slinky, falling perfectly on her slim body. There was a light blue lily in her hair tucked behind her ear. Her face was still flushed from the exercise, a healthy color settling on her cheeks. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement, accompanied by a constant smile that she just couldn't seem to wipe off. She looked so happy and alive. Michael stared in awe at how simply gorgeous she was.

After finishing the champagne, Fiona turned back to him and gave him an up-down again. She'd seen him clean up quite nicely many times. Hell, he cleaned up quite often. But a tux? She couldn't get over it. It was simple enough, but the coattails and bow tie amused her to no end... and also happened to turn her on. She handed him her glass, plucking at the bow tie playfully, moving to walk away. His eyes followed her, frowning.

"I'm going to find the little girl's room," she told him. "Won't be long."

Michael smiled his understanding, biting back the urge to follow her. He was determined to not make this turn out like last time. He could wait. As soon as they got back to her place, though...

He wrenched his gaze from her figure disappearing into the crowd, setting down the champagne glasses and settling back to watch those on the dance floor. To be honest, he couldn't quite believe that some of these couples could dance like they did. He could've sworn some of them were in their nineties and still keeping up to any beat the band could serve them.

Michael's eyes fixed on one particular couple. The band was currently playing a quick foxtrot and this couple was not only keeping up but throwing in extra twirls and even a few lifts here and there. Michael chuckled quietly at their intensity. Someone tapped his shoulder, though, and he reluctantly turned to see a frail looking old man at his side.

"Excuse me," the old man croaked. "But weren't you with that small young woman earlier?"

Michael had yet to see anyone under the age of fifty other than himself and Fiona so he nodded. "Why?"

"It seems she's been taken ill," the man informed him. Michael frowned, feeling worry begin to well up in his chest.

"What?" he said. "Where is she?"

"I believe she was being escorted outside by another man."

Fear ripped through the worry and Michael bolted past the old man, pushing through the crowd to the entrance of the ballroom at a painfully slow pace. Once he burst out into the hall, the crowd thankfully subsided and he sprinted for the door. The cool night air rushed against his skin as he skidded to a stop just as a small black car sped away. Michael stared after it in horror, recognizing it was pointless to run after it and the Charger was parked too far away to be of any use.

A terribly black feeling was wrapping tightly around Michael's heart and he kicked as the ground, letting out a cry of frustration. How quickly a perfect night could be ruined. Something caught his eye and he bent down to pick it up.

The blue lily Fiona had been wearing in her hair.

_A/N: I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: It looks like updates will be every other day._

"Hey, Mike!" Sam called, bursting through the loft door. He stopped, not seeing his friend. "Mike?"

"'M up here, Sam," Michael called groggily. Sam looked up to the second level.

"You don't sound so good, buddy," he said, jogging up the stairs. He frowned. It looked like Michael had fallen asleep on top of his computer. Michael rubbed at his eyes, yawning. "You not sleeping well?"

"It's been almost thirty-six hours, Sam," he said, a desperate edge in his voice that made goose bumps crawl up Sam's spine. "I was trying to-"

"To find Fi, yeah, figures," Sam finished for him. "Look, I told you, Mike, I'm on it. In fact..." He threw up at grin as Michael turned his sleep-filled eyes expectantly towards him. "We might've just found her."

Suddenly Michael seemed a lot more awake. "You found the car?"

Sam nodded. "Not gonna lie, Mike, luck seems to be on our side. I mean, you only caught a glimpse of half the numbers on the license plate. But my cop buddies were able to track it down."

"Where is it?" Michael asked, the desperation slipping back into his tone.

"Sitting outside a condemned warehouse in the scary end of town," Sam replied. Michael jumped to his feet, moving to rush down the stairs, but Sam grabbed him by the elbow, pulling him to a stop. "Whoa, there, Mikey."

Michael whirled around angrily. "What?" he barked. Sam frowned at the tone in his friend's voice.

"Calm down, first off," he ordered, gaining a venomous glare out of Michael. "While it's possible these guys are idiots, we may just run into a dead end. Or we may be walking into a trap. This was either luck, which to be honest I don't believe in, or this was too easy."

"What do you want me to do, Sam?"

Sam winced. It sounded almost like Michael was pleading with him. He closed his eyes with a sigh.

"What you have to," he said. "But I'll be right there with you the whole time."

XxXxX

As Sam pulled the car into park, both men glanced around the area cautiously.

"Whaddya think?" Sam asked. "Trap or dead end?"

"I'm hoping neither," Michael replied, his voice steadier now that he'd had time to wake up.

"If I had to chose, I'd go with trap," Sam said. "That way we've still got hope..." He trailed off, noticing the glare Michael was serving him. "Right. How do you wanna do this?"

Michael looked back to the warehouse. "There doesn't seem to be any outside security so getting in shouldn't be difficult."  
"We just gonna walk through the front door, then?"

"Sounds about right."

"All righty then," Sam said. "Let's do this."

They both hopped out of the car, pulling out their guns and quickly scurrying over to the warehouse. Without hesitation, Michael ran to the door and tried the handle. To his surprise, it opened easily. He glanced back to Sam.

"The front door's not even locked?" Sam whispered. "This isn't looking good."

Michael didn't answer, letting the door swing open to show a completely empty room.

"Damn, Mike. Looks like a dead end," Sam said, no longer worrying about the volume of his voice. Michael still didn't reply, keeping his SIG up as he stepped inside, scanning the room.

"Sam," he said quietly. A strange combination of relief and fear washed through Michael's core as he jogged over to one side. Strapped down to a gurney was Fiona, unconscious. Michael checked her pulse, heart pounding in his throat until he recognized the pulse under his fingers. He glanced over his shoulder to see Sam had followed him in, spinning around to make sure they really were alone. Turning his attention back to Fiona, Michael quickly began undoing the strong bindings. Cradling Fiona's slight figure in his arms, he picked her up and turned to Sam.

"Let's get out of here."

_A/N: I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!_


	4. Chapter 4

"I don't care what you say, Mike, that was too easy."

Michael barely glanced up to glare at Sam who was in the driver's seat. Instead of continuing the glare, though, Michael immediately returned his attention to Fiona. Her head was on his lap and as he stared at her he felt something more than what he'd gotten used to over the past two days. He'd quickly fallen into numbing fear but now the fear was biting, piercing through the fog and wrapping tightly around his heart. Sam was right, that had been incredibly too easy.

Trying to shove the fear down so he could think straight, Michael placed a gentle hand on Fiona's cheek, reveling in the touch of her skin on his. Suddenly her eyes snapped open and she bolted up. Her arms and legs immediately started to fight against Michael and he tried desperately to grab her.

"Fi! Fi! Fiona, will you calm down?" he barked. "It's me! Fiona Glenanne!" Foregoing the thought of restraining her, Michael placed both hands on her face, bringing her close. "It's me, Fi. You're all right."

Wild eyes finally settled on Michael, recognition flashing in them. Fiona ceased struggling, practically collapsing in Michael's lap.

"Michael," she whispered. Michael smiled reassuringly, brushing away tears that were welling in her eyes.

"Yeah. How are you feeling?"

"Tired," she muttered, her eyes already starting to flutter closed. Michael pushed hair out of her face gently.

"Get some rest, Fi. Sam and I are here. Just get some rest."

With an unrestrained sigh, she did just that. Michael let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam frowning at him through the mirror. Michael returned the gaze steadily.

"Let's take her home."

_A/N: __I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!_


	5. Chapter 5

Sam drove them straight to Fiona's house and helped Michael carry her in to her room. Gently, they laid her down on her bed.

"We should check her out, Mike, make sure she's okay," Sam said quietly, watching his friend closely as if Michael was about to break down. He didn't, however, but simply nodded, sitting down on the edge of the bed and beginning to inspect Fiona's arms, chest, head and neck. Sam sat down as well, examining Fiona's legs for any sign of what her kidnappers had done.

Michael threw himself into the work, refusing to let his mind wander. He needed to focus on making sure Fiona was fine, not on the fact he was scared to death for her. Being scared wasn't going to help anyone.

Michael frowned when he felt something other than smooth skin under his fingertips. Carefully, he lifted her head off the pillow to look at where his fingers were pressed on the back of her neck. Beside him, Sam noticed and stopped his examination, looking up to watch.

"What is it?"

"A cut," Michael muttered. "It looks like they cut in to either take something out or put something in, then stitched it up."

"How big?" Sam asked, moving to come around Michael to look for himself.

"Rather small. There's only four stitches," Michael answered, showing Sam. Sam whistled lowly.

"That's got to be right on top of her spinal cord, Mikey," he pointed out. "They had to have had professionals and good equipment to do that without killing her."

"Meaning you and I couldn't take whatever it is they put in there out without taking that risk," Michael muttered, slowly setting Fiona's head back down on the pillow.

"You said yourself they might've taken something out."

"Like what, Sam?" Michael bit.

"Well, what would they be putting in?"

"A tracking device," Michael replied easily. "Like you said, this whole thing could be a trap."

"Okay, so, let's take her to the hospital. Have them check it out!" Sam exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air. Michael laughed bitterly.

"She's an international criminal, Sam. The feds would be crawling all over all three of us."

"Then what do you want to do, Mikey?" Sam asked, his voice low, warning. Michael met his eyes briefly, knowing what Sam was thinking. Michael was a bit out of control. But... He turned his gaze to Fiona. Tracking device was just a guess. Who knew what other nasty things her kidnappers could've done?

"I don't know," he admitted hoarsely. He paused before looking back up to Sam. "What do you think?"

Sam seemed surprised by the offer to come up with the plan but quickly took it in stride. "I think we should take our chances with her kidnappers for now. See what happens."

Michael nodded, running a hand down his face. The stress that had been piling up over the past couple days was simmering down now. He was exhausted.

"I'm going to take a shower," he told Sam, pulling himself to his feet. "Keep an eye on her?"

Sam nodded shortly, clapping Michael on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Mike. She'll be fine."

Michael didn't reply. Instead, he simply walked out the room.

_A/N: I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!_


	6. Author's Note

No, this isn't a real update and I apologize for that. I will take this down before posting the next chapter.

I felt I needed to let you all know that updates will no longer be on a regular schedule. They will be random and spread out. I have unexpectedly found myself unemployed which is a major problem because I'm paying for my own education at an expensive school. Therefore, all my efforts are currently being put into desperately finding a new job.

If any of you would be so kind, prayers, wishes and/or hopes are greatly appreciated. Thank you for your understanding.


	7. Chapter 6

Fiona woke slowly, smiling to herself slightly when she felt someone's fingers prodding her, making sure she was all right. Sighing, but keeping her eyes still closed, she let herself sink into the pillow.

"Oh, hey, Fi, you're awake."

Fiona's eyes snapped open. That was _not_ Michael's voice. "Sam!" she exclaimed, sitting up quickly and pulling her legs up to her chest protectively. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Yes, that would be me, Fi."

Fiona looked around the area wildly, noticing they were in her own bedroom. "Where's Michael?" she asked.

"Taking a shower," Sam replied, eyeing her with amusement. "He should be out soon. I take it you thought I was him?"

Fiona simply gave him a wry, tense glare. Sam chuckled, shaking his head. "How're you feeling? Can I get you anything?"

Fiona shook her head, letting herself relax every so slightly. "Actually, yes," she amended. "A glass of water would be nice."

Sam nodded, hauled himself off the edge of her bed and walked out to the kitchen. He pulled out a glass from the cupboard and filled it with tap water. He glanced behind him to see Michael drying his hair with a towel.

"How's Fi?" he asked, dropping the towel down on the counter and moving to sit down. Sam turned off the water and turned around.

"She's awake, actually," he said. Michael stood back up quickly.

"What?"

Sam nodded. "She asked for a glass of water. You want to take it to her?" he offered, holding out the glass. "I'll give you two a moment alone."

Michael took the water gratefully, hurrying to Fiona's bedroom. Fiona looked up as he let himself in, her previously lost-in-space expression transforming quickly into a smile. Michael returned the smile, moving to sit beside her on the bed, and handed her the glass. Fiona took a sip of the water before setting the glass down on her bedside table.

"How're you feeling?" Michael asked. Fiona shrugged, wrapping her arms around her knees still pulled up to her chest.

"Tired," she replied. "Sore."

"What happened?" Michael asked cautiously. Fiona shook her head.

"I don't know. I was walking out of the bathroom and someone jumped me. Stuck me with some drug which knocked me out."

"Did you get a good look at anyone?"

"I was unconscious most of the time," Fiona said. "I woke up once but they gave me more of the drug before I could do much of anything." She rolled her neck, raising a hand to rub it. Suddenly she froze, feeling something strange under her fingers. Were those...?

"Stitches," Michael answered for her. "Seems like your kidnappers planted something in you."

Fiona turned wide eyes to him. "A tracking device?"

Michael shook his head. "We don't know. It's too close to your spinal cord for Sam and I to do anything about it."

"Michael!" Fiona exclaimed. "What if they're just using me to get to you?"

"Then why didn't they just grab me instead of you at the ballroom?" Michael pointed out. "It might not be a tracking device. We're just going to wait and see what happens for now. If it turns out to be something we need to take care of, we'll figure out what to do then."

Fiona wasn't happy about this idea, but she had to admit she didn't see what else Michael could do. She reached out for her glass of water for another drink, feeling Michael's eyes closely watch her every move.

"I'm fine, Michael," she said quietly as she set the glass down again. Michael smiled slightly, ducking his head in embarrassment at being caught.

"I know, Fi," he assured her. "Can I get you anything? Something to eat?"

Fiona shrugged. "Yeah, I'm kinda hungry. I think there's some bread and butter in the fridge if you'd be okay with making some toast."

Michael grinned at the prospect of being able to do something for her. "One or two slices?"

Fiona rolled her eyes, grinning back at him. "Two, thanks." She watched as he scurried out of her room to make her some toast, her grin slipping back down into a frown. She couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong.

_A/N: I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!_


	8. Chapter 7

_A/N: Thank you all for your well wishes and prayers! I have a job again! I still won't be able to update as often as I'd like, but the fact I'll be earning money is what matters, right? :)_

"Toast?" Sam asked with surprise as Michael popped in the slices of bread. Michael glanced over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow at his friend. Sam grinned. "How very domestic of you, Mikey."

The questioning look turned into a hard glare. Sam chuckled. "Don't worry," he said. "It's cute."

Michael turned around fully, crossing his arms. "You're only digging yourself a deeper hole, Sam."

Sam only grinned, shaking his head. "Yeah, whatever. You're the one making _toast_."

"Fi asked!"

"Okay, you're the one making toast for your girl. Domestic, Mike. That's a fact."

Michael couldn't find an appropriate response.

"How she doing?" Sam asked instead, changing the topic. Michael shrugged.

"Physically, I think she's just exhausted. Mentally, though, I think she's a little freaked out."

"Understandable," Sam said with a nod. "Did she recognize her kidnappers?"

Michael shook his head, turning to retrieve the toast as it popped. "They made sure she was unconscious the entire time."

"Damn," Sam hissed with a whistle. "Yeah, I'd be freaked out, too."

Michael finished buttering the toast and picked up the plate, gesturing for Sam to come with him. Fiona looked up from her trance again when Michael and Sam walked through the door, gratefully taking the plate from Michael.

"How'd you find me?" she asked with her mouth full.

"I managed to catch a glance of a bit of the license plate number," Michael explained. "Sam ran it through his cop buddies and there was luckily only one match."

"Luckily," Sam muttered. "Or maybe on purpose."

Fi's eyes went wide at Sam's thought, but Michael continued quickly, glaring at Sam. "We tracked the car down to the warehouse you were in."

"Yeah, where there was zero security," Sam pointed out, no longer muttering.

"You think this whole thing was staged?" Fiona asked, forgetting her toast.

"The mystery stitches in your neck don't help," Sam affirmed with a nod. Fiona threw the plate with her toast to the side, staring at Michael.

"Michael!" she exclaimed. "You have to get this thing out of me!"

Michael frowned, obviously trying hard to keep his cool. "How do you suggest we do that, Fi? We can't take you to the hospital: you're a criminal! And if Sam and I try to do an operation like this ourselves, the likeliness of you surviving is not even close to as high as I'd like it to be!"

Fiona opened her mouth to argue, but shut it quickly. Michael was right. She hated to admit it, but he was. Neither of those options were particularly appealing. She'd always managed to stay out of jail and she didn't like the idea of starting now. And she really did want to stay alive. But on the other hand, she really didn't want Sam or Michael to get in trouble because of this mystery thing in the back of her neck.

"So what do we do?" she asked quietly. Michael sighed, closing his eyes.

"We do what I said earlier: wait and see what happens. For you, that means getting some rest," he said, moving over to her to push her down gently and pull up the sheets. She growled at him slightly, but the warmth of the sheets suddenly reminded her how tired she really was.

"What does that mean for the two of you?" she asked, stifling a yawn. Michael glanced over to Sam before answering.

"For Sam, that means staying here at your place to watch over you. For me, that means going over to my mom's. She's going to want to know that we've found you."

Fiona nodded silently, her eyes already drooping. She looked forward to some peaceful, dreamless sleep.

XxXxX

Fiona woke only a couple hours later with a loud cry. Startled, she flailed about, trying to free herself from the sheets tying her down but only succeeded in making it worse. With a painful thud, she fell off the bed and hard to the floor. Letting out something between an _'oof!'_ and another cry, she stopped struggling and buried her face in the carpet. She needed to calm down. Why was she freaking out? Why was her heart pounding like she'd just run a mile? She was fine. She was safe inside her own house.

"Fi! Fi, what the hell happened?"

With a groan, Fiona looked up to see Sam sliding down to her side, tugging at the sheets. Heartbeat going down, Fiona helped and after a couple minutes, they successfully freed her. Fiona dragged the sheets back up on top of the bed and sat down. Sam looked up from the floor to her.

"What happened?" he repeated. Fiona tucked a loose bit of hair behind her ear.

"I don't know. I just woke up and freaked out, I guess," she said, not meeting Sam's gaze. She was afraid he'd make fun of her for getting all worked up over literally nothing. Instead, Sam pulled himself to his feet and placed a large hand over hers.

"You okay?" he asked quietly. Fiona looked up in surprise, realizing that Sam and her had really come a long way from that day she'd tried to bean him with a beer bottle in Michael's loft. They were friends. They would always bicker and fight, but they did care about each other.

"I'm fine, Sam," she replied, making an effort to actually sound grateful. Sam smiled, patting her hand and standing up.

"Okay. Get some sleep, all right?"

Fiona refrained from pointing out that that had been what she was doing. Sam left the room and Fiona moved to pull the sheets back over her, but stopped. Something in the back of her mind was nagging at her. For some reason she couldn't quite pick out, Fiona was afraid to go back to sleep.

_A/N: I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!_


	9. Chapter 8

"Mikey. Fi," Sam greeted with a large grin.

"Sam," Fiona replied, sliding down into a chair across from him as Michael sat beside her.

"How you feeling?" Sam asked pleasantly. Fiona glared at him.

"I'm _fine_," she bit. Sam raised up his hands defensively.

"Sorry. Mandatory question, that's all," he said quickly.

"So just lunch, Sam?" Michael asked before it could turn into full on bickering. "No other motive to this?"

Sam glanced around awkwardly at their surroundings. It wasn't any different than normal: a typical busy lunch hour at Carlito's. But Sam seemed more tense than usual.

"Well, to be honest-"

"_Not_ another one of your jobs, Sam," Fiona whined, exasperated. "Not now!"

Sam pursed his lips, meeting her eyes solidly. "He came to me, okay?" he said in a hiss. "And I figured _you_, at least, would want in on this one."

Fiona frowned. Why would she ever want in on one of Sam's jobs? Before she could actually ask the question, however, it was answered for her.

From behind Sam, a tall broad man walked up with four glasses in his hands. Paying more attention to not spilling, he started distributing the drinks around the table. "Drinks for everyone," he declared with an Irish lilt. "Figured I should get on your good sides before I..." He trailed off as his looked up and his eyes immediately fell on Fiona.

"Cameron," Fiona chocked, caught in his gaze. There was a slight pause before Cameron grinned.

"Fiona Glenanne," he said, shaking his head. He looked to Sam. "Why didn't ya tell me you were friends with this crazy chick?"

Sam looked shocked, but Fiona didn't really notice. Her eyes were locked on Cameron as he sat down beside Sam. It had been _years_...

"Wait," Michael said quickly, sitting up in alarm. "You two actually know each other?"

Fiona nodded silently.

"How?" Michael asked. Fiona wrenched her gaze away from Cameron to look at Michael. There was an edge to his tone. If Fiona didn't know him so well, she wouldn't have caught on to it. But it almost sounded like Michael was trying not to panic.

"We, uh," she started, clearing her throat. "We worked together in the IRA over a decade ago."

Cameron tilted his glass in Michael's direction. "Pleased to meet you. Name's Cameron Courtney."

"Michael Westen," Michael said slowly. Fiona winced. He was definitely trying not to panic.

Cameron's eyes widened at Michael's name. "Oh-ho!" he cried, sitting up. "As in the man who used to be Michael McBride?" He looked to Fiona, eyes twinkling. "You still with this bloke?"

Fiona forced herself to smile. "Not still," she corrected. "Again."

Cameron laughed, turning his attention back to Michael. "Well, congratulations, my friend. You've caught yourself quite the woman. Or maybe she's caught you. Hard to tell with Fiona."

An awkward smile flickered on Michael's lips for a brief moment before he turned his stare back to Fiona. She winced again, looking away.

"So, Cameron, what are you doing in the States?" she asked, trying desperately to ignore the fact that both Sam and Michael were staring at her. Michael seemed to be able to wrench his eyes away at that question and looked to Cameron as well.

"We're not about to get mixed up in anything going on back in Ireland," he said in a warning tone, glancing to Sam briefly.

"Hear him out," Sam insisted lowly. Cameron gave Sam a grateful nod.

"I can understand if you don't want to get involved, but I do need some help," he said, suddenly serious. "Maybe you could at least point me to some people who would be willing to help."

"What's the job?" Michael asked steadily, leaning back and folding his arms.

"There's this woman I'm supposed to be tracking down," Cameron told them. "Crazy bitch. Even worse than O'Neill who, if I remember correctly, you had a run in with recently, right?"

Michael and Fiona nodded silently, indicating Cameron should continue.

"Name's Lynn," Cameron said, pulling out a folder and pushing across the table towards Michael and Fiona. "Lynn O'Toole. They don't have a good shot of her face in there, sadly, but I've tracked her down to Miami. I've got everything I need except a way to grab her. I can't do that on my own. Like I said, she's crazy."

Michael had pulled the folder closer and was skimming the front page. Fiona leaned over to try to read it as well. After a moment, Michael closed it, looking up.

"We'll see what we can do."

_A/N: I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!_


	10. Chapter 9

Fiona hated silence. She loved loud noises: loud music, yelling, screaming, gun shots, explosions, whatever. She couldn't deal with silence. It made her uncomfortable, edgy. And it also just annoyed the hell out of her.

"There was never anything between me and Cameron, Michael," she finally said quietly as Michael drove them back to her house. There was a small huff of breath.

"I didn't ask," Michael replied. Fiona looked over to him to see his eyes were fixed stubbornly on the road. She sighed, closing her eyes momentarily.

"Pull over," she demanded suddenly. Michael shot a confused frown her way.

"What?" he asked. Fiona met his eyes steadily, letting him know she wasn't messing around.

"Pull over."

Michael continued to stare at her blankly for a second before turning his attention back to the road and carefully pulling over to the shoulder. Fiona quickly undid her seatbelt and flipped over to sit on Michael's lap, her lips claiming him fiercely. She felt Michael recoil in surprise before relaxing and allowing her to attack him, gently wrapping his arms around her to pull her in closer. Fiona willingly obliged, never breaking from the rough kiss. She needed him to understand, to know that she needed that. She needed him to realize just how much she needed all this. She needed _him._

Finally, she backed off slightly, slowly sucking Michael's bottom lip into her mouth. Letting go, she stared him hard in the eyes, searching for any sign that he had understood the message she had been trying to convey. She saw mostly surprise, something that could've been understanding, some questions, but mostly what hit her was the slight touch of fear she saw. She sighed, pressing her face into the nape of his neck.

"Michael..." she whispered into in neck. He shuddered as her breath sent goose bumps down his spine.

"Yeah, Fi?"

"Cameron's an idiot, all right?" she said, forcing herself to sit up and speak normally. "The only reason he's stayed alive all this time is because he has good friends. Which made him a good friend to have." She met Michael's eyes again, pleading with him silently to drop it and be who she needed him to be again. She didn't understand why she needed him so badly right now, but she did. She wasn't going to question it yet.

After a few too many long moments, Michael nodded slowly and moved his hand up her back to pull her in again for another kiss. Fiona complied until his hand reached her neck, brushing against the stitches. She hissed at the touch and pushed herself off of Michael, rubbing her neck. Michael stared at her.

"I thought you said that didn't hurt," he complained, obvious concern in his tone. Fiona shook her head, refusing to look at him.

"It doesn't," she agreed. "I... I don't know why I did that."

She could feel Michael continue to stare at her. It was almost worse than the previous silence. She let her hand drop from her neck, staring stubbornly out the window in front of her.

"Let's go home."

_A/N: I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!_


	11. Chapter 10

The smooth thin blade disappeared into flesh, easily slipping through skin, muscle, bone and organs like they were butter. Shock rather than pain flashed across his face, but the pain soon appeared as the blade twisted inside of him. With ease, it slid back out, the metal coated with viciously red blood.

Someone was screaming. Blankly, he looked down to his stomach, putting a hand to the wound. He simply stared at the blood on his fingers, dripping slowly to the ground. Then all at once, he folded, falling to the ground with a terrible thud.

Every detail was crystal clear yet Fiona was too far away. She could feel her feet pounding on the ground beneath her as she sprinted to Michael's side but it felt like she was trying to run through molasses. She couldn't get there fast enough.

Finally she slid to her knees, cradling his head on her arm. Her free hand wiped away the sweat on his face gently as she whispered his name desperately over and over again. His eyes seemed to be searching for something, flitting about wildly, his breath becoming more and more shallow.

Then they stopped. His eyes rolled back and the struggle to breath ceased. His body slumped heavily into Fiona's grasp as she felt her heart skip a couple beats.

"Michael..."

_A/N: ...*hides*... I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism..._


	12. Chapter 11

_A/N: First off, I FRELLING LOVE YOU GUYS! I mean, how many chapters are there? And how many reviews are there? Second most reviewed BN fic on ! Just a couple more and we'll be in triple digits! YOU ROCK MY WORLD!_

Fiona's eyes snapped open in terror and she sat up quickly, looking around her dark room wildly. Her heart was pounding and she could feel sweat dripping down her forehead.

Michael.

The sword sliding through his gut...

Michael.

He was dead.

Fiona closed her eyes in grief, letting her head hang. Then suddenly, she looked up again.

No, he wasn't. Was he?

As fast as she could manage, Fiona practically flew off her bed and to the living room. Relief coursed through her like a tidal wave when she saw Michael's figure soundly asleep on her couch, the gentle rise and fall of his chest assuring her he was indeed alive. She shook her head, amusement and frustration resurfacing at his insisting that he sleep on the couch rather than with her. He'd said he wanted to give her space, but Fiona was positive that he was still shaken up about Cameron.

Quietly, Fiona tiptoed away, not wanting to deal with an overly concerned Michael right now. She stopped at the door to her bedroom, glancing in. Then, deciding with a curt nod to herself that she really didn't want to go back to that nightmare, Fiona made her way to the kitchen. She could use a midnight snack right now.

"Can't sleep?"

Fiona jumped, lettuce from the salad she was mixing flying everywhere, and whirled around, raising the large spoon threateningly. Michael smiled wryly, gently grabbing the spoon and lowering it. Fiona let out a shuddering breath.

"Don't _do_ that," she hissed, crouching down to start picking up lettuce. Michael joined her, though she could feel his eyes watching her carefully.

"You're jumpy," he commented, his tone mild. Fiona glanced at him briefly before turning back to the lettuce without a word.

"What's wrong, Fi?" he asked, quietly.

"Nothing's wrong," Fiona said stubbornly, standing up and dumping the lettuce on the counter. Michael dumped the lettuce he'd picked up on top of that, eyes still watching Fiona's every movement.

"Fi..." he said quietly. Fiona shook her head, brushing him off and walking a few steps away.

"I'm _fine_, Michael," she insisted. Michael paused before walking over to her and taking her by the shoulders, turning her to face him.

"Fi, please," he pushed, looking her hard in the eyes. "Talk to me."

Fiona held his gaze, caught for a moment before wrenching her eyes away, biting her bottom lip. Crap. There were tears welling in her eyes now. It was a stupid _dream_. She knew it wasn't real. Why was she acting like a total moron right now?

"I..." she started, chocking on the single syllable. Michael's grasp loosened and Fiona could sense the shock coming from him. He put two fingers under her chin, nudging her face up gently.

"Fi..." he whispered, a soft edge to his voice.

"You were dead," Fiona blurted, dropping her head down into his shoulder. "You were killed. I don't know who killed you, but I watched you get stabbed with a sword. Then... then you died. I ran over to you. I didn't know what to do. I don't think I could've done anything. I just... I held you and... and it was like you didn't even recognize me. And... and then... you were dead..."

Somehow, Fiona was winning the fight against the onslaught of tears waiting to break free. It was causing her to have a killer headache, but she was winning all the same. She simply kept her face buried in Michael's shoulder, the memory of the terrible dream replaying in her mind over and over again.

Slowly, awkwardly, Michael wrapped his arms around her and patted her back. "I'm not dead, Fi."

"I _know_ that," Fiona bit angrily. Michael was silent for a moment.

"I know you know that, Fi. And I'm sorry you had this nightmare. I really am," he assured her. "But I'm here. I'm right here."

_A/N: For those of you who haven't heard, classes have officially started for me. Therefore, updates will be even more scattered. I apologize for this and hope you will continue to read._

_I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!_


	13. Chapter 12

"According to the intel Cameron gave us, O'Toole is staying at the Hotel Victor. Our first move is to scout it out for ourselves."

Fiona looked up to give Michael a raised eyebrow. "Don't you think Cameron would've already done that?" she pointed out. Michael shrugged without meeting her gaze.

"Maybe. But he's not coming with us."

"I like where you're going with this," Sam said as he sat down at Fiona's table with the other two, a beer in his hand. Fiona stared at both of them.

"What? Why?"

Michael pushed the file Cameron had given him yesterday towards Fiona. "Have you read O'Toole's file, Fi? She's dangerous. Too dangerous for us to put our trust in someone we don't know."

"But we _do_ know him!" Fiona argued, her eyes flicking back and forth between Sam and Michael with confusion. Michael shook his head.

"_You_ know him, Fi. Sam and I don't."

"And you don't trust my judgement?"

Michael finally looked up to meet her gaze with a sigh. "That's not what I'm saying, Fi. And you know that."

"Cameron could've changed since you last saw him," Sam interjected, gaining a grateful look out of Michael. "And he's affiliated with the IRA."

"So am I!" Fiona argued incredulously.

"Yeah, and how long did it take me to even begin to trust you?" Sam countered calmly. "I still question your judgement. A lot."

Fiona's eyes squinted into a glare. Sam raised his hands and shrugged before turning his attention back to Michael.

"We scouting out the Victor today, Mike?"

Michael nodded. "We want this woman off the streets as soon as possible."

Sam smiled, taking a swig of his beer. "Sounds like a plan."

_A/N: I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!_


	14. Chapter 13

"Fi, tell me what you see."

_"A bunch of tourists, Michael. I'm not seeing anyone who could be O'Toole."_

"Sam?"

_"Nothing, Mikey."_

Michael suppressed and sigh and took another look around. He was stationed just outside the Hotel Victor, pretending to read a newspaper as he kept an eye out of the crowd. Fiona was inside the lobby and Sam was in the Charger across the street.

_"Wait,"_ Sam's voice said into Michael's ear suddenly. "_That might be our girl. Twenty feet to you six, Mike. The ATM?"_

Michael turned, peering through the crowd. "I see her. Sam, keep the car running. Fi, back me up."

_"What? We're going to grab her now?"_ Fiona asked incredulously.

"I want this woman off the streets as soon as possible," Michael said quickly, beginning to weave through the crowd. When he was only a couple feet away from the small woman at the ATM, he called out.

"Excuse me!"

The woman turned instinctively, her and Michael's eyes immediately meeting. A series of emotions flashed across her small face: confusion, recognition, and before Michael could decipher any other emotion, she was whirling around and bolting the opposite direction. Michael swore under his breath and sprinted after her.

"Fi, I'm in pursuit!"

_"On my way, Michael!"_

O'Toole darted down an alleyway and Michael followed, the sound of his feet pounding against the pavement pushing him along. Finally he caught up to her and grabbed her roughly by the arm, quickly shoving her against the wall. O'Toole tried to wrap a hand around into her purse but Michael quickly ripped the purse off her shoulder and back behind him. He grabbed her wrists with one hand and used his other arm to hold her back against the wall.

"Don't hurt me!" she cried. Michael frowned, taking a closer look at her face. There were tears in her eyes... A criminal like O'Toole shouldn't be crying. A criminal like O'Toole should still be fighting. Unless this was a trick...

Light footsteps padding down the alleyway reached Michael's ears. Fiona had arrived. O'Toole looked over and the terrorized look on her face switched to shock.

"Fiona?"

Fiona skidded to stop, the shock in O'Toole's face mirrored on hers.

"Gwen?"

_A/N: I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!_


	15. Chapter 14

The car ride back to Michael's loft was uncomfortably silent. Michael was keeping his eyes fixed on the road, his fingers tight around the steering wheel. Sam's eyes kept flickering back and forth between Michael and the girls in the back. Fiona could tell he was dying to ask about Gwen but he kept quiet.

Fiona was struggling not to stare at Gwen. Lynn O'Toole, Cameron had called her. A psychopath criminal worse than O'Neill. He had to have been mistaken. Gwen was too innocent, to scared, too young!

When they filed all in to the loft, Michael closed the door behind him before finally turning his eyes to Fiona and Gwen. He frowned at Gwen for a moment, her wide watery eyes watching him in turn. Then he looked to Fiona with a sigh.

"Another friend from the IRA?"

Fiona's mouth twisted. "No, actually. Gwen was... Gwen was Claire's best friend."

If Fiona wasn't so shaken up, she would've been amused as both Sam and Michael's eyes flew wide at the mention of her deceased sister. The two men exchanged glances briefly before Sam worked up the nerve to speak.

"And she's now got an INTERPOL file?"

Gwen suddenly seemed to be cluing in.

"What?" she asked frantically.

"Why are you here?" Michael asked. She stared.

"Vacation! Have you ever been to Ireland? It's not exactly as sunny as Miami!"  
"Vacation from terrorizing your homeland?" Sam asked, obviously not convinced.

"What?" Gwen repeated, her voice rising a couple octaves. Michael turned to the work table, pulling the file Cameron had given him out from a drawer. He handed the file to Gwen.

"Any of this sound familiar?"

Gwen turned her large eyes to the file, flipping it open. She stared at it blankly.

"Is this supposed to be me?" she asked incredulously. "Who calls me _Lynn_?"  
"Why would someone call you Lynn?" Sam pointed out. Gwen looked up at him with a frown.

"Gwen? Gwendolynn? That's my name," she said with a touch of sarcasm in her voice. "But everyone calls me Gwen. Never Lynn."

"So you're not what the file claims?" Michael pushed. Fiona shot him a disapproving frown but he ignored it. Gwen was shaking her head.

"No! I never...! I could never...!"

Michael sighed and rubbed at his eyes wearily. "We need to stash her somewhere. Fi, could you...?"

Fiona nodded. "I bet Gwen and your mom will get along splendidly."

_A/N: I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!_


	16. Chapter 15

_A/N: Quick update! You lucky dogs. Plus... I get the feeling ya'll will like this one..._

Sam watched Fiona and Gwen leave the loft with a raised eyebrow. After a moment of staring at the closed door, he turned around to look to Michael.

"Well."

Michael didn't say anything. Instead he simply turned his back to Sam. He opened a drawer and pulled out a small black box. He stared at it and Sam somehow got the feeling that Michael had forgotten Sam was still standing there.

"What's that?" he asked, jerking his head at the box. Michael looked up with a wry smile and tossed the box to Sam. Sam caught it and flipped it open. He grinned.

"Finally."

Michael's smile dropped into a glare. Sam chuckled, setting the ring box down on the counter.

"How long have you had this?"  
"I was going to ask the night she was kidnapped."

Sam whistled lowly. "And she has no idea?"

"There hasn't really... been an opportunity since then," Michael replied. Sam watched him for a moment. It wasn't difficult to tell that Michael was depressed about this.

"Mike... I know you. Why don't you just _take_ the opportunity?"

Michael glanced up at him briefly. Sam frowned and pushed the ring box towards his friend.

"Ask her, Mike. We both know her answer. Ask her before something happens."

Michael's eyes darkened. "What do you mean by 'something'?"

Sam shrugged. "I'm just saying. First she's kidnapped. That whole situation in and of itself was weird. And she has that thing in the back of her neck. Now she's got two old friends from Ireland showing up. Something's going on here, Mike, something we're not seeing."

Michael let out a loud sigh. "I realize that, Sam. Why do you think I haven't... I haven't..."

"Proposed yet?" Sam finished for him. Michael's mouth twisted.

"Yeah."

_A/N: I love reviewers and I live for constructive criticism!_


	17. Chapter 16

"Gwen, what _are_ you doing here in Miami?" Fiona asked, sliding over a beer from Madeline's fridge to her sister's old friend. Gwen shrugged, keeping her eyes fixed on the bottle as she took a long swig.

"Vacation."

"You have nothing to do with Cameron being in town?" Fiona pushed, sitting down beside her. Gwen looked up cautiously, her mouth twisted. Fiona sighed.

"Gwen..."

"We're dating, all right?" Gwen burst. "At least. We _were_. I don't think we are anymore, now that he tried to convince you and your friends I'm some international criminal."

Fiona raised an eyebrow at her. "You're dating Cameron?"

Gwen shrugged again. "Yeah. He's actually the one who convinced me to come to Miami. Said it would be nice and romantic to come to the sunny beaches of Florida. And I've never been over the pond before so... It was an adventure, you know?"

Fiona ran a hand across her face with a sigh. Gwen frowned suddenly.

"You think it was his plan to get me here so he could tell you guys I was a criminal all along?"

Fiona merely looked at Gwen with exasperation. Gwen's jaw dropped slightly.

"But _why_?" she asked, her voice jumping. "What did I ever do to him? Why would he want me dead?"

"Maybe he didn't want you dead," Fiona pointed out. "And I doubt this was just Cameron's doing."

Gwen frowned. "Why do you say that?"

Fiona rolled her eyes. "Because he's an idiot, Gwen. I know that, you know that. Why in the world did you start dating him anyway?"

"Hey!" Gwen yelled. "You dated him for ages! Even Claire was positive you two were going to get married and then you just up and left him!"

Fiona didn't respond, however. In the middle of Claire's mini rant, Madeline's front door had opened to admit in Michael who was now standing in the doorway, staring at the two women. Fiona's heart skipped a couple beats and she felt her cheeks flash a terrible red. Michael's eyes met hers and she winced at the betrayed gleam in them. Slowly, she pulled herself to her feet.

"Michael..." she began in a cautious whisper. The sound of her voice seemed to knock him back into reality and Michael shook his head violently before storming back out the door. Fiona swore under her breath and quickly followed him.

"Michael!" she called as she shut the door behind her. "Michael, wait!" She caught up to him and grabbed his elbow, attempting to stop him. Michael spun back around, yanking his arm out of her grasp.

"Let me explain!" Fiona said fast before he could say anything. Michael shook his head, waving a finger in her face.

"You flat out _lied_ to me, Fi!" he barked. "You said there had never been anything between you and Cameron!"

Fiona suddenly found herself reverting to a defensive anger. "You never told me about _Samantha_!"

Michael laughed bitterly. "Oh, no, that is completely different, Fiona! Yes, I should've told you about her, but I never flat out _lied_ to your face!"

"It's not like you had a choice, did you?" Fiona bellowed back.

"I wouldn't have lied had I had the choice!" Michael defended.

"Oh really?" Fiona said. "And why would I believe that?"

Michael opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Instead he simply stared, shaking his head and seemingly trying to find the right words. Finally, he simply batted a hand at her angrily and turned away, jumped into the Charger and sped away.

_A/N: Yes, yes, I'm terrible. I give you all that happy shippery chapter last time and now I give you this. *hides*_

_I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!_


	18. Chapter 17

Something was wrong. Sam couldn't pick out what, exactly, it was, but he knew. And seeing as Mike had asked him to stay watch over at Fi's tonight for some reason he hadn't been willing to divulge _and_ that Sam was already on the edge about everything already, simply knowing something was wrong was enough. He sat up on Fi's couch and peered through the dark with a frown, ears straining for any unusual sounds. It didn't seem like someone had broken in... He grabbed his shirt and threw it on, quickly and quietly padding over to Fi's bedroom. Wincing in preparation, he cautiously pushed the door open and peeked through the crack. She was still there.

Sam closed his eyes with a sigh. Maybe he'd been wrong. Then he frowned again and looked back through the open door. Yes, Fi was still there and was still asleep, but she was obviously not sleeping well. Her covers had been thrown over the side of the bed and she was curled up into a tight little ball. From what Sam could see of her face, it seemed it was scrunched up tightly. Sam sighed heavily. He didn't want to wake her, but he couldn't leave her trapped in some bad dream.

Grumbling under his breath, he pushed the door fully open and tiptoed to the side of her bed, making sure not to step on the blankets strewn across the floor. Before he could let himself think better of it, Sam reached out and shook Fiona's shoulder hard.

"Fi!" he hissed. Her eyes flew open in shock and she flailed against his touch before recognizing him. She looked around wildly for a cover to pull up to her chin and Sam pushed back a grin, picking up one from beside him and handing it to her. She snatched it quickly.

"What?" she demanded.

"You okay?" Sam asked. Fi glared at him.

"I'm fine," she insisted. Sam pursed his lips, not convinced. The intensity of Fi's glare increased but as she glanced around the room, the glare died down and fell into a sort of wary frown. After a moment, she pulled the blanket around her shoulders and stepped off the bed.

"I'm going to make myself a sandwich," she informed Sam, then purposefully strode out the room, the blanket trailing behind her like a robe. Sam heaved another sigh and followed her to the kitchen. He watched as she pulled out the bread, the jam, the peanut butter and a butter knife and began to make a midnight snack. At one point, her shoulders slumped and she stopped spreading the peanut butter.

"What, Sam?"

Sam shrugged even though she couldn't see him. "Could I have one?" he asked conversationally. Fiona turned her head to glare at him over her shoulder.

"Make yourself one."

Sam chuckled quietly, walked over beside her, grabbed his own butter knife and began making himself a sandwich. Fiona paused for a while, watching him in surprise before quickly finishing her own sandwich and walking over to the table to eat it. After a minute, Sam followed suit.

They sat in silence for a long while. Sam couldn't be sure quite how long, but seeing as they both finished their sandwiches and continued to sit there for a fair amount of time, he would've guessed a half hour passed before he finally spoke.

"So."

Fiona looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. Sam met her eyes.

"Wanna tell me about that dream you were having?"

There was the glare again. Sam raised his hands in defense half-heartedly.

"Things are a bit tense around here lately. I'm worried about you. Mike's worried about you," he added, hoping that would mean a bit more. Fi huffed under her breath and crossed her arms against her chest, returning to staring at the surface of the table. Sam raised an eyebrow. Obviously he'd missed something. But that wasn't the current issue.

"Okay, well, I'm worried about you," he repeated. "And, Fi, if you're distracted, that's dangerous. You, of all people-"

"Claire was alive."

Sam stopped mid-sentence, blinking wildly, unsure that he'd heard her hoarse words correctly.

"What?"

Fi looked up, seeming annoyed to have to repeat herself. "In my dream. Claire was alive."

"Your sister?" Sam clarified. Fi nodded, back to the table's surface.

"Yeah."

Sam watched her carefully, heightening his awareness of every movement she made. Only once before had he ever heard Fi talk about her sister, not including when she'd told them Gwen had been friends with her. He knew this would be a difficult topic for him to breach. He'd rather have Mike take care of something like this, but seeing as there was some tension between them for some reason, Sam figured that probably wouldn't work right now.

"Wouldn't... her being alive... be a good thing?" Sam asked slowly. Fi smiled humorlessly.

"It was before she died," she said quietly. "When... when it actually happened, I wasn't there. We'd had a fight and... and she'd left the house in a huff. Which was when it happened. But... but in my dream, I was there. I was there when she died. And I couldn't do anything about it."

Her eyes were fixed solidly on the table, but Sam could see the tears swimming in them. He tried hard not to gape at her. Fiona Glenanne had just opened up to him, Sam Axe.

"She's already gone, Fi," Sam told her gently after giving himself a moment to compose himself. "That's in the past."

"Is it really, Sam?" Fiona asked suddenly, looking up with flashing eyes. "First Cameron and now Gwen? Who's next?"

Sam winced slightly at her harsh tone, but frowned disapprovingly. "We'll figure this out, Fi. It'll be fine." He paused, watching her as she fell back again, returning once again to her staring contest with the table.

"I promise," he added quietly.

_A/N: I am dreadfully sorry it took so long to update! I was going to update last weekend, but life kind of got in the way... :S You know how it is. I hope this longer chapter will make up for it._

_I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!_


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